


Kiss Off

by indelible



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drama, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelible/pseuds/indelible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hope you know that this will go down on your permanent record. Oh yeah? Well don't get so distressed. Did I happen to mention that I'm impressed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I hope you know that this will go down on your permanent record. But don’t get so distressed. Did I happen to mention that I’m impressed?

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello this is indelible-x from livejournal i am just posting this fic here. but here are some notes for any new readers. first off, this fic was written five years ago and has gone through zero editing of any kind, so please excuse any typos or weird inaccuracies you may find. I don't know what i was thinking five years ago. second, this fic is still in the works, i am just slow with updating because i suck. please enjoy my fic people tell me it is not terrible you might agree.

**Chapter 0: PROLOGUE:** _Waiting Room_

The Rebel was someone who existed somewhere between teenage delinquency and criminally insane, lighting cigarettes but never actually smoking them, and opting out of things like a normal life in favor of wasting away in a bathroom stall. The Rebel is someone who held all the power but is blind to the things that mattered. He never really knew what he was doing, but he always got it right. Up until a few hurt feelings made The Rebel realize he was just a boy who couldn’t stop doing things wrong.

The Kid was a nobody who knew all the right people. He was someone who knew what he wanted but could never open his eyes wide enough to see the big picture. That may have been his downfall. Or maybe that was what made him; his sweet innocence and selfishness. The Kid was a deeper thinker than anyone would give him credit for and he knew that made him the smartest of them all. At least until he met The Rebel and his life became full of doubts.

The Prince said all the wrong rumors. The Sidekick knew best. The Star was burning out.

In the end, they were just a few small town kids who had more things in common than they had ever expected.

 

Kiss Off 

**Chapter One:** _I hope you know that this will go down on your permanent record. But don’t get so distressed. Did I happen to mention that I’m impressed?_

There was nothing special about Blue Meadows. It was a small town tucked away in some unknown patch of nowhere somewhere upstate. It was a simple town, filled with equally simple people, and most people knew everyone’s whole family by name. The town’s boundaries were marked by a small mountain, which curved around the northwest corner of the town and stretched on for miles beyond that. There was a lake, somewhere in the middle of all this, that no one ever really visited even in the summer: it just never was warm enough for a swim.

Nothing else existed outside of the borders except a few stray houses and a good number of bears. There was only one highway in and out of the town and it was a good forty five minutes before someone would hit a big city, regardless of which direction they took. Not that many people minded. They had everything they could need in their small nowhere-town.

The town was big enough for a good number of McDonalds but only one high school, and much like the town itself, there was nothing special about Blue Meadows High School.

The high school was settled somewhere in the middle of town, the ancient and cracked walls covered with a gracious amount of graffiti and weeds sprouting from the cracked sidewalk that surrounded the school grounds. The elementary and junior high where much in the same state. (But every year they repainted the walls of the elementary school to cover the graffiti)

On the inside, the high school was in a much worse state of disrepair. The rooms were tiny, the desks shaky on their legs, the plumbing system was more than a little untrustworthy, and their always seemed to be a shortage of algebra textbooks. Due to high theft rates, the school had to downgrade to only one portable television in the entire school that they kept locked up safe in the principal’s office and wheeled out only on special occasions. More than a few windows in the classrooms where missing, replaced with newspaper and cardboard. The teachers desk had vulgar messages carved in, which they always frowned at during the first few weeks of school, but quickly got used to until they didn’t even notice anymore.

The reason the high school was in such a horrible shape was probably because Blue Meadows had more than their fair share of delinquents. There were more than a few gangs that caused trouble around the town, knocking windows in with metal bats and starting fights with rivaling gangs. Things very rarely escalated past a few punches thrown after school or in the restrooms, or a few stolen objects. Oddly enough, these things only seemed to happen during the school year. Like, once the final bell rang for school that year, there was some unspoken truce initiated that there would be no fights so that everyone could enjoy their summer.

The whole gang thing was more of a hassle than anything and most of the kids only joined their respective gangs because the entertainment department of Blue Meadows was seriously lacking.

After the first few years of fights and damaged goods, the faculty of the high school decided that buying new desks and replacing stolen TV’s every year was not something they would like to do or their budget would allow. So they just became slightly more protective of what they already had and decided to live with the chaos that seemed to dominate their everyday lives. Or, at least the chaos that dominated their lives from September to June.

Of course, Blue Meadows wasn’t completely filled with delinquents/future gang members. They had that one kid who, every since junior high, had managed to make it to the National Spelling Bee every year, but never actually win.

No, there was nothing special about Blue Meadows, but it should be noted that the spelling bee kid was good friends with Minho.

\--

Minho spent most of his time in the back stall of the boys bathroom in the senior hallway, cigarette pursed between his lips as he was bent in a U shape on the toilet seat, feet propped up as he leaned back. Sometimes there would be a book in his hand and other times there would be a pad of paper open on his lap, hand moving as he wrote in his nearly illegible scrawl. Some days, he would just be leaning back, cigarette untouched and burning away in his hand as he stared up at the dirty, yellowing ceiling of the bathroom, eyes half lidded as he thought.

Today was one of those days. He was in his usual spot, head tilted slightly as it rested on the wall behind him. The restroom was empty, as it usually was. Class was going on and most knew better than to step foot in his bathroom. Most people listened to the right rumors. That always made things easier for Minho in the grand scheme of things; people knew not to mess with people with a reputation like his.

Minho was known by the majority of the student population as the name teachers whispered under their breath whenever something went wrong and by the title of Trouble Maker that had stuck around with him ever since Junior High. Every school prank imaginable, he had done. Every situation that ended sitting in the principal’s office, praying that whoever had to come pick you up wasn’t too angry with you and that whatever punishment they had in store was something you could live through, he had done. With a smile, even. No problem.

Eventually, people didn’t have to guess who it was that pulled the fire alarm or who had started the fight by the science department. It always leads back to Minho. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t even involved; it always leads back to Minho.

Not that he minded the reputation he was branded with. If nothing else it gave him a quiet place to sit.

His fingers were being burnt. He blinked, straightening out his stiffened neck as he glanced down at his hand where his unsmoked cigarette was puffing out, the end hot against his finger tips. He let it drop to the floor before he shuffled around in his pockets for another, lighting it and returning back to his earlier position. That was the fate of most of his cigarette, to end up untouched in a pile of ashes on a bathroom floor.

He didn’t like smoking much, anyway, just thought the way the smoke curled up into the air was interesting to look at.

\--

Jonghyun, Taemin decided, was a lot like a box of rocks. Interesting at first, but ultimately useless once you figured out that much like the town and school he attended, there was nothing special about him. Or, maybe he wasn’t necessarily a box of rocks so much as a box of diamonds. He seemed to be worth something and was even easy to look at, and that was what the people of Blue Meadows did: looked. But in the end, no one had a use for a diamond like Jonghyun. Not here, anyway.

Taemin always thought that he belonged in a big city. On a stage, even, where thousands of people could see and cheer for him every day, every night. He would never be bored, always doing the newest, greatest thing. He could have a fanclub even, after he became famous for that pretty voice of his. He’d have concerts and go on tour across the country and after every show there would be a sea of people cheering his name and waving their hands. Everyone would see him for the precious thing he was.

But in this town, Jonghyun was just like everyone else.

Taemin never understood why Jonghyun stuck around, since it was clear that the life of a star was the life for him. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to leave. The people he knew here were what made him want to be great, and he refused to leave unless he could take everyone with him. But Taemin didn’t think that. He thought it was just because Jonghyun could never be alone no matter how badly he wanted something.

Normally, Taemin would want nothing to do with a person like Jonghyun. In fact, he probably would have lived his life happily without ever having met him. But Jonghyun lived in the blue house right next to his burnt white house, and despite the three year age difference Jonghyun had always been determined to make Taemin his friend. It was something Taemin never really understood but accepted anyway because Jonghyun was like a diamond and everyone wanted nice things.

Now, it isn’t really important to know why Jonghyun wanted to befriend Taemin, but it should be noted that they did become friends and that Jonghyun’s bedroom window faced Taemin’s bathroom window.

\--

Taemin, Jonghyun decided, was a lot like a doorknob. He was something that not many people paid attention to, but still played an important part in everyone’s everyday life. He was just a kid who, only fifteen, still had that childlike look in his eyes, could still have that carefree smile, and still ordered happy meals just so he could play the crosswords that are printed on the bags. Jonghyun never understood that. He used to order Happy Meals for the toy, not the bags they came in. But Taemin had always been a little weird like that.

Jonghyun had known Taemin his whole life, had been three years old when he had first seen him and Taemin had just been a few days old, finally coming home from the hospital. He didn’t know it then, but when he first saw Taemin all small and vulnerable he wanted to be friends with him.

It was almost instant, their friendship. Living next door to each other meant seeing each other every day as they grew up. Even then, when Taemin was only five and Jonghyun eight, he thought of each other as they do now: a diamond and a doorknob. They were an odd pair, but they worked, and that was all that really mattered.

\--

Flash.

Taemin put down his camera and Jonghyun moved to look over his shoulder. Grinning, Taemin hid the camera screen. “Did I say you could move? Get back up there.”

Jonghyun’s head tilted slightly but he ignored his friends’ request. Instead he snatched the camera from Taemin’s hands, insisting that he just wanted to look when the younger complained.

When he began looking through the hundreds of pictures stored on Taemin’s camera he wasn’t surprised to find it was mostly just photos of him. According to Taemin, Jonghyun was a perfect subject, his features soft and easy to focus on. “A model.” Taemin had said. “You could be a model.”

A model. A singer. A dancer. A star. Taemin said Jonghyun could be a lot of things.

In the midst of profiles and full body shots there were a few scenery photos as well, capturing all the natural wonders Blue Meadows had to offer in greens and browns. Near the end of the film, Jonghyun paused on a picture of three people he vaguely recognized from being in his class. Staring at the picture, he realized he knew these people, the whole school did. They played on the football team, the towns big stars. If the student population saw this photo, Jonghyun doubted anyone would still see them as respectful.

Smirking, he held out the camera to Taemin. “Drug bust? How noble of you.”

Taemin took back the camera, taking a look at the picture. “Nah, more like blackmail. This was taken last weekend. Did you know these three have scholarships for football? Full ride.”

“Those scholarships would be long gone if those photos get out. Cocaine doesn’t look good on applications. How’d you get that without them knowing, anyway?” Jonghyun tried to remember back to last weekend, details of the party all blurry around the edges. Jonghyun had been there. Everyone had been there.

“It was an accident.” Taemin explained, shutting his camera off. “But who knows. I could ‘accidentally’ let this leak out, too.”

“The sooner the better.” Jonghyun acted like Taemin had already decided what to do. “They’ve been pulling this since freshman year. About time someone busted them.”

\--

There was the scuffling of feet and the murmur of voices started as class let out. Minho could hear it all the way from the back of his stall and he clamped his eyes shut. Only five minutes for passing time and then things would quiet down again. It was these five minute interruptions in Minho’s day that caused him to get irritated.

He was in the middle of burning his fourth cigarette when the bathroom door slammed open and the noise from the hallway was momentarily intensified but Minho wasn’t paying attention to that, instead more focused on the squeak of shoes against the dirty floor and the grunts coming from whoever happened to have barged into his bathroom.

“L-let me go!”

“What’s the problem? Lose your nerve? Can’t do anything without your fucking camera, can you.”

Geez, it was even more annoying than the noisy hallways.

Putting on a glare he straightened himself up, and in one swift moment, had kicked his bathroom stall door open, the door hitting the wall with a resounding bang. The half burnt cigarette was in his mouth, and despite how much he hated them, he did have a reputation to uphold. The way the four intruders tensed up at his sudden appearance made him smirk, lips quirking up around the cigarette. Once he was sure they were all significantly startled, he took the moment to assess the situation.

There were four of them, three of them looking to be seniors. Football players, even, judging from the way they held themselves. They had a hold on some kid, some small little boy Minho had never seen before. The boy’s jaw was set, a bruise forming on his chin from where he must have been hit, his hair slightly mused. One of the guys had a hold on the kid’s shirt, one of the others had his arms and the last was just standing there, mouth hanging open looking as if he had never seen a teenager before as he stared at Minho.

Minho stuck his hands into his pockets, crossed his ankles, and leaned back against the wall, tilting his chin upward as he waited for an explanation for why these idiots had to come and make so much noise in his bathroom.

The one who was standing there finally got over himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fuck off, Minho. This isn’t any of your business.”

“Don’t think you’re hot shit just because of your rep. Why do you hang out in here, anyway? This is the senior hall, you’re still a junior. We have more of a right to be here than you do.” Another piped up, letting go of the kid, who at some point after Minho had appeared, had slumped in defeat, a look of resignation on his face.

“He fucked us over. We’re just returning the favor.”

Minho breathed, blowing the smoke out slowly between his teeth as he pushed himself off the wall, taking a few slow steps towards them. “Whoa, hold on. I didn’t ask for your life story.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. It was idiots like these that made him consider being a regular smoker. They were too much of a hassle. And he had just gotten comfortable in his little stall, too.

Glare set in place, he spoke in a cold hard voice. “Now that you’re here, it is my business. What’d one kid do to you? Push you in the hallway? Ruin your art project?” The unspoken Grow the fuck up hung in the air.

They didn’t know what to say to that, just looked between each other before the last of them finally let go of the kid. “Whatever. We don’t need to deal with this.” One said, and they quickly shuffled out of the bathroom. Minho imagined them as whipped dogs for a moment, and was highly amused by the imagine of them with flattened ears and tails tucked between their legs as they practically bolted out into the hallway, still filled with students reluctant to go to class.

He was about to snuff out his cigarette and retreat back to his stall when he remembered the kid. He stopped mid-step and tossed his cigarette to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his foot, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, looking at the kid over his shoulder. Minho studied him for a moment, noted how he just kind of slumped against the sink, twisting a lock of his hair in between his fingers as he stared down, before sighing.

The kid looked like a twelve year old. Seriously.

But he decided to give the kid the benefit of the doubt and decided that he must be a freshman from that fact that he had never seen him before. Maybe a sophomore since he managed to take those three idiots with no more than a few bruises on his part and because Minho didn’t pay much attention to the student body to know who anyone was outside of his circle, anyway.

Maybe it was the fact that he was just a kid (or maybe that he held the kid in a kind of respect at the moment, because he had somehow managed to start shit with those douche bags) that caused Minho to make his way over to him, head tilted slightly. He stopped just a foot or so away from the kid, hands still in his pockets. The kid just kept looking down, which irritated Minho slightly because he wasn’t used to being ignored by anybody, stranger or not.

“Hey.” He called, and it may have come out harsher than he expected, but it got the wanted effect across because he stopped looking at his shoes and looked up at Minho and he looked kind of… innocent. His eyes were a little wide and his face a little boyish and—wait, was he pouting? Maybe he really was twelve. Minho wondered vaguely just how someone like him got into a fight with a couple of seniors who were probably linebackers.

Minho must not have been expecting that, since he just kind of stood there, eyebrows stitched together as he just stared. What was he going to say? Damn, he totally forgot. He reached up to his lips, looking for his cigarette so he could have something to look at other than this kid, but at the last moment remembered he put it out when those three idiots had left. So he scowled, stuffing his hands back in his pockets.

The kid fidgeted slightly under his gaze, gripping the edge of the sinks he was leaning up against, mirroring Minho’s expression. “What?”

“Uh…” Minho rubbed lightly at the back of his head, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling he spent so much time staring at before returning his attention to the boy, leaning down slightly so he could look him in the eye. “They didn’t get ya too bad, did they?”

It was silent for a moment and Minho almost had the right mind to just shove to the kid into the sink. He was about to, really, but then the kid just started laughing. A full, hunched over, side clutching kind of laugh that left him breathless and left Minho to just blink and stare like the kid had just lost his mind. Which he very well could have. For all Minho knew, that hit the jaw could have done more damage than he thought.

But the kid straightened up, still smiling widely and let a few more quiet chuckles escape before he glanced up at Minho from the corner of his eyes. “Nah, ‘m fine. They got the worst of it, anyway.” And then he had this cheeky little grin, eyes glittering as he told Minho this piece of information and this time he really did shove him into the sink, although, he really couldn’t say why. Maybe it was because the kid’s sudden attitude change had caught him off guard, or maybe it was because he didn’t know what else to do. Either way it was easier than talking to the kid.

Minho turned on his heels and stalked back into his stall, kicking the small pile of cigarette ashes so they scattered around the floor before collecting his backpack. On his way out of the bathroom he stopped briefly in front of the kid, who had adopted the same position that Minho had earlier back in his stall—his feet were dangling in the air slightly as he was bent v-shaped in the sink and his head was resting against the mirror as he stared up. Minho wondered briefly is he saw anything different in the ceiling than he did and felt a bit sorry for him.

So he reached a hand out, ruffling the kids’ hair and giving him a sideways smirk when he looked over. “You’re not bad, kid. Hope you didn’t plan on going to class because you’re defiantly late. See ya around.”

It was only when he was halfway back to the junior hallway did he realize he never found out the kids name.

\--

It was a long time before Taemin moved from his spot on the sink. He didn’t really care if he missed a class because of his laziness. After the morning he had, he figured he deserved an hour to do nothing. He just never thought the first time he skipped class it would be spent in a sink, probably getting the back of his pants soaked, after just barely getting out of a fight that would most likely have ended with him bloody and bruised in the hospital. How would he have explained that to mom? He figured he could pass the bruise on his chin by saying he slammed it against a locker when he wasn’t paying attention.

Okay, so maybe he did deserve that punch. But it wasn’t like he actually showed the pictures to anyone. Well, other than Jonghyun. He didn’t know how the word got out that he had them, wasn’t sure who told who what. Jonghyun wouldn’t have said anything.

Would he?

After the day he was having, he was willing to believe anything.

Jonghyun was the first notable difference in his morning. Usually, the senior would meet him out by the street and the pair would walk the two blocks to school. Taemin had been running a few minutes late and was all ready with an apology, but Jonghyun never showed up. Taemin didn’t think anything of it and had just walked to school himself. When Taemin arrived he felt eyes on him. As he walked through the freshman hall and drifted from class to class he felt that nagging pull that something was going to happen.

After fourth hour, Taemin had the nagging, yet cliché thought, that things were quiet. Too quiet.

There was a short cut to his fifth hour that he took every day out of habit to talk with Jonghyun, and it was to cut through the school courtyard and ultimately, the senior hall. It was there that he caught site of them and it was all he could do to stumble into the boys’ bathroom before they got a hold of him.

So, they somehow heard about the photos. Taemin was saying his goodbyes to life when Minho had shown up.  
Taemin knew Minho as the name teachers whispered under their breath whenever something went wrong and by the title of Trouble Maker that, according to Jonghyun, had stuck around with him since conception. He knew that Minho was a junior who spent the majority of his time in the senior boys’ bathroom, although he still wasn’t sure why. He had heard enough rumors from Jonghyun and everyone else to know he had a reputation and had something along the lines of a cult following. He knew that half of the school was afraid of him, the other half respected him. He also knew that a majority of the freshman girls had a crush on him since he is ‘soooo cool!’

Taemin had never seen Minho and had always thought of him as the stereotype delinquent; some big buff, idiot who had the word 'PAIN' tattooed on their knuckles or something. But Minho has looked just like any other teenager. Normal, even. Definitely not like the kind of person to have a cult following.

But from the way Minho had cleared the bathroom out without having to throw a punch, no questions asked cleared up any misconceptions Taemin might have had about him. Minho definitely knew how to use that reputation of his.

Minho didn’t seem like that bad of a guy and in that moment, after Minho had chased those idiots out and turned, shoulders set and eyes sliding shut as he took a drag on a cigarette, Taemin became a part of the student population that respected him.

He was a bit surprised when Minho actually spoke to him. He has just sort of expected him to keep turning and go back to whatever it was he was doing before since things like this—fights and stuff—they had to happen every day in Minho’s world, right?

Regardless of where the conversation was heading, he didn’t expect it to end with him being pushed into a sink. But then again, it was Minho he was dealing with here. He shouldn’t have expected anything.  
“Man, what a shitty morning…”

Taemin slid out of the sink, checking in the mirror to see that, yeah, his butt was wet. He frowned, checking his hair in the mirror, too. It had suffered far too much abuse today. He grabbed his backpack (which had fallen off his shoulder some point after he had dived into the bathroom) and adjusted the straps so his backpack hung low. He would miss class to sit in a bathroom sink, sure, but he wasn’t going to miss out on lunch because his pants were a bit wet.

He walked out of the bathroom just as class was letting out, and he silently prayed that he wouldn’t run into the idiots again and hurried off towards the cafeteria. He didn’t get very far before he heard his name being shouted.  
“Oi, Taemin!”

He froze, shoulders tensing. He was in the senior hallway. He didn’t know any seniors. (except Jonghyun, but he had apparently decided to vanish off the face of the planet) Who was calling his name? He was almost afraid to turn and see because if a senior was looking for him it had to be one of those three idiots from before and that was not—“Hey Taeminnie~ What’re you doing down over this way, huh?” Oh wait, it was just Key. Breathe Taemin, breathe.

An arm was slung around his shoulder in a friendly gesture as he resumed walking again, Key keeping up with a little dance in his step, his free hand holding onto the brim of his baseball cap as he smiled. Taemin tilted his head slightly offering a small smile in greeting. “I was just… checking to see if Jonghyun had come in late is all. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

Key shook his head, squeezing Taemin’s shoulders lightly before letting go, settling his hands behind his head. “No, man, haven’t. He’s probably just sick of something, so nothing to worry about, maknae. You can survive a day without him, can’t ya?”

“Yeah. Of course.” At least, Taemin hoped so. He had already been jumped once and his chances of being jumped again were only increasing the longer he stayed here. With one last look in Key’s general direction (Key had scampered away from his side in order to greet a group of girls in a way that involved way too many flicks of his wrist) he smiled tightly “I’m going to head to lunch. See ya Key.”

Key waved slightly, not even turning. “O-kaaaay! I’ll catch up with you soon!” and then dived right back into conversation with the girls.

Taemin scampered off before the girls could notice him, because for some reason, they seemed to like him and often insisted on giving him a good fifty hugs before anything else. He blamed Jonghyun and Key entirely for this because they often encouraged them.

He sighed. Lunch was going to awful boring without Jonghyun. But first, he had to make a stop at the principal’s office.

\--

Contrary to popular belief, Onew wasn’t that great of a speller. The only way he gets to the national spelling bee every year because of luck, he supposed, even though most would disagree with him being a lucky guy. It could also be just because the rest of the state was also very bad spellers, which guaranteed Onew a spot in nationals. Probably also why he was usually out the first round. Onew didn’t really mind though. Spelling wasn’t his thing, anyway, but it was a good way to pass the time.

Onew also spent the majority of his time in Minho’s general proximity because that’s what best friend did. Most people didn’t believe that Onew—the Onew—was best friends with Minho—the Minho. But they had been. Since kindergarten, in fact, when Minho had tripped Onew in the playground on the second day of school. Minho must have felt sorry for him, because he helped him right back up afterwards. Since then Onew had always been his faithful shadow, which Minho hadn’t been too keen on at first, but quickly got over it when he realized that Onew had to be the best friend anyone could have.

Onew was the kind of guy who was willing to do anything at anytime for anyone, stranger or not. Even if he made a fool of himself, he would try, try, and try until he had done his part. It wouldn’t matter if the person he hated (well, not really hate since Onew probably wasn’t capable of hating anyone) most in the world came knocking on his door at 3 AM, Onew would probably invite them in, bake them a fresh batch of cookies, offer them his bed and shower and give them whatever they wanted because that was just the type of guy he was.

It was easy to take advantage of. Even Onew knew it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do what was asked of him. Help was help, and if he was willing to give it, why not? Even so, Onew wasn’t an idiot. He was good at watching, good at waiting. Just spend a few minutes with him and he’ll have you figured out, know what makes you tick, what makes you upset, all your nervous habits and what makes you smile. He could analyze all of that, figure out every last detail, and then he’d help with whatever happened to be wrong. People liked him and maybe that was why he was never taken advantage of.

He knew Minho better than anyone. He had spent enough time with the guy in his bathroom stall, in his basement, on the streets, at school, to know every last thing there was to know about him. And that was probably why he knew that something had happened the moment he saw Minho at lunch, fingers tapping the table as he sucked down one of those juice boxes that people still handed out with a furious expression on his face, glaring at people at random. That was why Onew slipped down into his seat beside him, setting his lunch down in front of him and staring out of the corner of his eye and asked “Who did you beat up this time?”

And as expected, Minho slapped the juice carton back on the table, and leaned back in his seat, hands flying up to gesture wildly at nothing as he began his story, glare still in place. “It’s not that. It’s just this kid.” He nearly spat the word, gesturing off to the student body at large.

Onew twisted open his soda bottle, taking a sip. “Who?”

Minho balked, only for second, because really, who was that kid? “I don’t know. Some freshman, probably.” He admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and picking up his now empty juice box, the tension draining from his shoulders slightly.

“Uh-huh. And what happened?” Minho must have been overreacting. What could one kid have done, anyway?  
Minho shrugged one shoulder in response, slamming down the juice box again once he realized it was empty and reached for Onew’s soda in retaliation. “I don’t know. But he had three guys on him when I found him. I don’t know what he did but it had to be bad, right?” Onew slapped his hands away, just as he grabbed the soda, snatching it up himself and taking another sip before handing it over to Minho.

“I mean, there were three of them.”Minho had his arms resting on the table, propping his head up with a hand as he waited for Onew’s expert advice.

…which didn’t come.

“Three.” Minho emphasized, just in case Onew hadn’t caught on yet.

Onew stared, before realized an answer was expected of him. He took a long, and what he hoped to be a thoughtful looking chew of his sandwich. “It’s not your problem. Don’t go sticking your nose in things that don’t concern you. You get into enough trouble as it is.” Good advice, if he did say so himself. But he knew Minho, and he would never listen.

“But it is my problem! They were in my bathroom. And I helped him out, and now those idiots are going to think I’m involved and try to start shit with me.” After he said it, he figured that made sense. That had to be why he was so concerned, right? Right.

Onew leaned back, stealing his soda back as he puffed out his cheeks. “Okay, if that happens, then I was wrong. But until that happens, just stay out of it. You’ll probably never see that kid again, anyway.”

Minho didn’t say anything to that, just stared out at the people around their table, no longer glaring, just thinking. Onew was probably right; he’ll never see the kid again, those idiots wouldn’t dare to start things with him and it defiantly wasn’t his problem. He should just brush it aside like he had done so many times before for so many other things.

So why was it so hard to forget?


	2. I need someone, a person to talk to you, someone to love and care. Could it be you?

The next day, Taemin walked out of his house, lightly poking at the bruise on his chin. As expected, his mom had freaked out when she saw, and had given him a disbelieving look when he fed her his locker excuse. Good thing there wouldn't be another fight today. He had turned in this pictures to the principal yesterday. After all, the word was already out that he had them, so he might as well done something with them.

Half way down his driveway, he paused, glancing up at the figure standing at the end. Jonghyun was back. Shrugging, he met up with him. “Missed ya at school yesterday.” He greeted, falling into step beside the senior. He had better have a good excuse.

“Sorry, man. Sick.” And he was smiling as he ruffled Taemin’s hair in apology. Taemin resisted a pout. Not good enough.

“Hey, what happened to your face?”

Taemin glanced up out of the corner of his eye, noting the subject change as he slowly let out a puff of air. “Gee, thanks.” He made sure to include the eye roll and sideways smirk.

Jonghyun laughed, nudging Taemin on the shoulder slightly. “No, seriously. You didn’t get into a fight did, ya?”

How come every one automatically thought that? Okay, so maybe he really had gotten into a fight, but it wasn’t serious, thanks to Minho. But did he really seem like the kind of guy to get into a fight? Apparently so. And as far as he knew, it was Jonghyun that caused him to get in a fight, anyway.

Taemin just smiled lightly, forcing out a few quick laughs. “Hah, no. Just hit my head against my locker, no big deal.”

Jonghyun blinked, before shrugging, and changed the subject by complaining about how much make up work he must have after missing a day.

Jonghyun might not have believed him, but at least he didn’t question him. Taemin thought that because of that, he really was his best friend.

\--

Onew and Gym class had never really gotten along, so he had decided to join Minho in his bathroom that day and had taken residency at his usual spot, which was on the counter, coincidentally right next to the sink that Minho had pushed that kid into yesterday. He was letting his legs swing back in forth, blowing a bubble with his gum as he shifted through pictures on a digital camera. Minho was leaned up against the wall opposite him, cigarette burning and whatever book he needed to be reading for his literature class open in his hand, eyes gazing over the words but not actually reading. He wasn’t even really sure what the book was about. He had lost interest sometime around page three.

From his spot, Onew laughed at whatever had shown up on the screen and Minho looked up at the noise, finally giving up on the book he wasn’t actually reading and tossed it back in the pile that was his backpack. “What’re you looking at?”

Onew scooted over slightly, pressing himself up against the wall so Minho would have room to come sit beside him. “Pictures from Jin’s party last weekend.”

Minho nodded, remembering as he settled himself next to Onew, looking over his shoulder at the pics, cigarette settled between his lips. Jin had thrown a party over at her place last weekend. Some end of summer thing, even though school had started two weeks before the party even happened. Minho didn’t go to parties very often, preferring to do his own thing within his smaller crowd, but Onew had managed to drag him to this one.

He glanced idly at the pictures as they zoomed by, Onew somehow able to point out who was who in the pictures even at the high speeds he was scrolling through them at. How was it that Onew seemed to know everybody?

“Slow down, you’re giving me a headache.” He commented, nudging him with his elbow. Onew made a face, but slowed down as about fifty pictures of girls in bikinis came up. Onew rattled off the names of each one, sometimes adding comments about their choice in swimwear.

Minho zoned out, nodding his head occasionally. He hardly recognized any of these faces. He leaned his head back and his gaze shifted to the ceiling, occasionally stealing glances at Onew and whatever happened to be on the screen. Just nameless girls and… huh?

“Wait, go back.”

Onew paused with his hand over the buttons, going back like requested to a picture of two girls that Minho recognized vaguely from being in his class. They were smiling, hair still damp from being in the pool and one was still dripping like she had just gotten out of the water before the picture was taken. But in between the two girls was a kid, someone who looked small and innocent, eyes still a little wide, face still a little young, and he was laughing, frozen in time. One of the girls was pushing him toward the other, and he was struggling, probably because he didn’t want to get his clothes wet.

Minho took the camera from Onew and flicked to the next one. The girl had a hold of the kid and was pulling him back towards the pool. He was still smiling, the other girl cheering them on. The next picture was something of the same nature, except the other girl had joined in to try and get the kid pushed into the pool. It must have worked, because in the next picture he was soaking wet and fully clothed, hair sticking to his face as he stood in the pool, one of the girls’ arms around his shoulders as they smiled for the picture.

That was the last one with him in it and Minho sat and stared at it, eyebrows stitching together as he studied them. Onew tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. “What is it? Found something you like?” His voice had a suggestive tilt to it.

Minho ignored him, instead showing the picture of the kid standing in the pool. “That’s him. That’s the kid.”

Onew blinked, and pointed. “You mean Jonghyun’s kid?”

So, this kid was Jonghyun’s faithful friend? It took Minho a minute to remember who Jonghyun was—kinda short, kinda cocky, extremely talented, and of course, nothing without his friends. Minho nearly smacked himself at the realization.

“Oh shit. He hangs with Jonghyun, then that means he knows Key.” Minho groaned, slumping back against the mirror. Key had been his science partner the past two years and learned quickly that it is impossible to get him to shut up. But Key had been full of good advice, seeing as how he would always tell Minho to wear more red, he just looked so dashing in red. People who described other people as dashing were people Minho would rather not be associated with.

But he couldn’t just ignore Key, either. Dealing with him was a tricky business that involved just a small amount of attention and a heavy dose of cold shoulder.

Regardless, Minho always made it a habit of his to make sure he skipped out on science.

Onew chuckled slightly. “He’s not much like Key, though. I’ve talked to him a few times. He’s a nice kid. Smart, too. Girls like him.”

“Older girls.” Minho noted, judging from the pictures. “Lucky bastard…” Minho’s teenage girl fanclub consisted of fourteen year old fangirls, which got old after the tenth one stuffed some cheesy love note in his locker. He thought he had left that back in junior high. But it was freshman he was dealing with here.

“He’s a freshman, but he seems more mature than Jonghyun sometimes.” Onew mused, taking his camera back. He took one last look at the picture before turning off the camera and stuffing it back into his backpack. “I’ll be sure to print off copies for you. Later.” And with a cheeky grin Onew was gone, leaving Minho to try and get himself out of the sink he had fallen into after that comment. What the hell was that supposed to mean, anyway?

Once he picked himself out of the sink, cursing Onew under his breath, he stalked back to his stall, tossing his half burnt cigarette into the toilet, the hiss it made as it extinguished mimicking the one Minho made as he realized that he, once again, forget to find out that kids name.

\--

There was a spot just a little ways away from the abandoned park and somewhere not quite under the overpass. The walls were covered in grime and graffiti and the floor was caked with dirt, but it had a homey feel to it. There was a dusty couch pushed up against a wall, sad and sagging with the stuffing almost gone from years of use. A few more chairs in varying states of distress were scattered about. Wooden beams were laid over the top connecting the two rooftops and allowed the sunlight to filter through in small square patterns. It was here that Minho liked to call home.

He could usually be found sprawled out on the couch, scowl in place as he stared up at the sky through the beams, tossing a ball up and catching it in a rhythm. Up, down, up, down, up down…. Sometimes he’d let it hit the beams and let the ball come back down and hit him in the stomach before rolling away, forgotten.

He was in the middle of his up down rhythm when Onew found him. He walked in and leaned against the wall opposite the sagging couch, shoulders placed right between hardly legible graffiti scrawl and the beginning of some abstract drawing that no one could ever really figure out what it’s supposed to be.

“I got worried when I couldn’t find you in your bathroom.” Onew began, eyes trained on Minho’s face. “Should’ve known you’d be skipping to come here.” When there was so response, Onew took to looking at the dirty walls, small pout in place. “I don’t know why you like it here so much. It’s gross.”

Minho’s scowl deepened at that comment. “It’s private. Not gross.” He hissed. This was his spot, and much like the bathroom, no one ever came by here. Even Onew liked to skip out, finding the graffiti on the walls nothing but offensive. Sometimes Minho’s “gang” members would stop by, but he’d end up ignoring them. They were only there for show, anyway. Just there to prove to others that they had hung out with Minho—the Minho—and hadn’t gotten a broken nose out of the deal. Minho never understood what that was about, but figured as long as they never tried to talk to him they could do whatever they wanted.

“No, it’s gross.” Onew continued, curling his nose up in disgust at a pile of trash on the floor. “If you’re going to hang out in here all the time, you should clean it up.”

Minho just shrugged, letting the ball hit the beams of the ceiling and roll away.

Onew followed the ball for a moment, staring as it disappeared behind a pile of old newspapers. After a moment of staring and listening to a few airy sighs coming from the couch, Onew stalked over, leaning over slightly too properly glare at his friend who was being a bit more pathetic than usual. “Seriously Minho. Stop sulking.”

“Sulking?” Minho bit back a little too fast, voice a little too high. “Who says I’m sulking? I’m not sulking. What is there to sulk about, anyway?”

Onew made a face like Minho has just proved his point. “You’re sulking. And you’ve been sulking ever since Taemin came along. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Minho had a reply ready, a quick witty comeback that involved him storming right out of his spot and straight back to school where he would probably go to sulk—er, contemplate—in his bathroom and then beat the crap out of the next unfortunate person to walk in. But he only got as far as his shoulders tensing up, letting his mouth hang open in the start of his tirade before he realized something wrong. Words left him and his glare lost bit of its edge because Minho just realized something completely wrong with what Onew had just said.

He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing thickly as he let out a slow breath through his teeth. Relaxing his shoulders, he sunk back down into the thin cushions of the old couch, and cocking his head to the side slightly he repeated, “…Taemin?”

Onew was a bit taken back at the name, blinking rapidly as he fought to catch up with what Minho was talking about. Realization dawned on him when Minho’s expression didn’t relent and the name hung between them, Minho raising an eyebrow as he waited. Did he honestly not know?

Onew sighed, shaking his head and rubbing a hand through his hair (“For Christ’s sake Minho”) He glanced back at Minho, back to the graffiti covered wall, and back to Minho again before settling on staring at the newspaper pile where the ball had disappeared, watching as the breeze ruffled the pages, the ends scraping along the dirty floor and the first of the fallen leaves floating across the ground, indicating that fall was just around the corner.

“How could you not even know what his name is? Are you really that dense?” Onew finally looked over at Minho, who had taken to staring back up at beams, glaring at nothing. “Then again, I forget who I’m dealing with here. I’m surprised you can even remember where you live, what with hanging out here all the time.”

“Shut up. It’s not like he introduced himself or anything.” Minho spoke up, voice still a little whiny. “But he knew who I was.”

“Everyone knows who you are.”

“No, no, that’s not the point.” He shook his head, foot tapping restlessly on the arm rest of the couch, propping his head up on an elbow as he transferred from biting his lip to glancing at Onew from the corner of his eye. “It’s just that—ahh crap, I don’t even know what I mean.” With one last rough kick to the arm rest, he crossed his arms across his chest, fuming silently.

“Uh-huh. Didn’t I tell you not to get involved?” Onew spoke slowly, calculating, trying to see if he could figure out just what Minho was freaking out about.

“It was kind of hard not to.” He grumbled. “That Taemin kid is more trouble than he’s worth.”

And then Minho went off on his long awaited rant, letting off all his steam that had been boiling up and over for the past day. He complained about Taemin, about Onew, and about the school body in general and as he repeated once again just how annoying the whole Taemin situation was and how it shouldn’t have even been this big of a deal. Onew’s mental gears were churning, whirling and working as a thought started and grew. Grew and made so much sense and only seemed to fit the more Minho talked. A slow smile spread across his face as he finally realized exactly what Minho’s problem was.

Minho was in the middle of retelling the story of the whole bathroom incident when Onew straightened up, smug smirk still in place as he took in a breath, Minho oblivious as he continued his story, gesturing at the world in general.

“—and he was just sitting there laughing his ass off like I just told the greatest joke in the world and it just—“

“You like him.”

“—it was so frickin annoying how he just like, thought we were friends….” But suddenly Minho trailed off, finally catching Onew’s words, finally letting them sink in as he slowly sat up. It was silent for a moment as Minho stared, not really glaring, but not looking very happy either. “I… what?”

Onew figured he was either digging his own grave or was going to give Minho a rather unpleasant shock. But a shock might be good for him, and it might not be so unpleasant, and it was that thought that made him repeat himself, with a bit more feeling, voice a little more confident because he must have struck a nerve somewhere. “You like him.”

Minho blinked. Once. Twice. He frowned.

Rocking back on his heels slightly, Onew repeated himself again. “Face it. You like him. You won’t shut up about him. Seriously, you’re acting like a twelve year old girl with a crush.” He smiled widely as Minho’s expression changed from confusion, to anger, and then back to confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hissed, hands curling into fists as he clutched the couch cushion, but it lost some of his bite, because his scowl looked more like a pout than anything and his voice cracked somewhere in the middle of all that like he really was twelve and struggling with puberty all over again.

“It’s perfectly normal. Everyone gets curious at some point.” Onew continued wisely, pacing back and forth along the length of the couch, twirling his finger as he spoke. “Even the infamous Minho.” He glanced back at him, still motionless on the couch, face still somewhere in between being furious and questioning.

Minho, in his own insignificant little corner of the universe, had drowned out Onew completely. What was Onew even saying? He’d never even spoken to the kid. Okay, so he’d talked to him once, but that hardly counted as a conversation. He hadn’t even known his name till five minutes ago and up until this point he had thought of the kid as nothing but an annoying little freshman. It wasn’t possible for Minho to like him.

That’s it. Onew had finally gone crazy.

Regardless, it took awhile for him to get his voice working again. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you.” He growled, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he finally picked himself off of the couch, collecting his ripped and tearing backpack from its spot in the corner. “I’m going back to school.”

Onew stopped pacing. “Dude. Why?” He sprinted after him, genuinely concerned. Minho? Going back to school? Willingly? “Was it something I said?”

And despite the current mental hurricane Minho was going through because of what Onew had said, that caused him to smile, a slight quirk of the lips. “Of course not.”

\--

It had been a frighteningly normal day now that Jonghyun was back. He didn’t ask Taemin anymore questions, and neither did Taemin. He went to class, as normal, went to lunch, as normal, and hung around Jonghyun, as normal. At least he didn’t have to worry about the three bullies from yesterday.

Completely ordinary. Outrageously normal. Plain boring.

But why shouldn’t it have been? It wasn’t like anything had happened yesterday. No, no, something had to have happened… why else could he not stop thinking about it?

At lunch, Key told him the news he had been waiting to hear all day. As soon as Taemin and Jonghyun had sat at their table, Key’s voice was hushed and his eyes lowered as he told the long and complicated tale of how three of the schools all star football players had been suspended because they were busted with drugs, alcohol, hookers, child pornography, and an array of other unmentionables.

Somehow the simply story had evolved into this. The rumors that were floating around now made the cocaine look innocent. Taemin smiled to himself, poking lightly at his bruise, feeling a bit smug for knowing what really happened. He paid close attention to Jonghyun, whose face remained blank the whole time Key spoke.

When Key started talking about his weekend plans was when Taemin tuned out and his ordinary boring day continued.

His normal and boring day, however, quickly ended when the final bell rang and he walked out of school to start his trek home.

Now, most people who attended Blue Meadows High School would agree that walking out of school and seeing Minho—the Minho—standing there, scanning through the crowds of students and looking generally unhappy with the world wasn’t a good thing and getting home as fast as possible was probably the best course of action. No one wanted to stick around and see if they were the one he was looking for.

He was leaned up against the wall, cigarette hanging lazily between his lips and hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets. Students flowed around him, staying a good ten feet away from him and speeding up their walk whenever they had to pass directly in front of him, keeping their heads down and tripping over each other in their haste. (Except for a majority of the freshman girls, who lingered closer than others dared, casting him dreamy looks before running off with their friends, giggling and whispering) Even the teachers seemed to hover uncertainly, giving each other knowing glances, as if debating telepathically who would have to go and tell him that smoking on school property was against the rules.

Minho himself didn’t seem at all surprised by the behavior, like all of this was perfectly normal and smoking on the school grounds and ultimately looking like a bad ass while the majority of the student body cowered in fear was the only thing he could possibly be doing at this moment.

Jonghyun found Taemin standing and staring. “Hey man. Ready to go?”

“Oh, uh… hi. Uh… go ahead and leave without me. I got something to do real quick.” He murmured in reply, breaking out of the stream of students, leaving Jonghyun sufficiently shocked, and headed straight to where Minho was standing. He wasn’t exactly sure why he did this, just thought that maybe someone should stop staring and treat him like a normal human being.

The student body seemed to stop completely, everyone forgetting their earlier rush to get home, whispers breaking out as they waited to see what would happen now. Even the teachers had stopped to watch.

But Minho didn’t even look up at Taemin’s approached, just kept looking forward.

Taemin stopped a foot or so away from him, glancing up. “Who’re you looking for?”

There was no answer. Minho just slid down to sit on the ground, elbows propped up on his knees as he finally seemed to acknowledge Taemin’s presence by glancing up and holding out a small rectangular box. “Cig?”

“No thanks.” Taemin took it as an invitation to sit down beside him. He made sure to keep a good distance between them.

Minho took his own cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it in front of him, grinding it out with the heel of his foot before gesturing to the crowd of people. “They’re ridiculous, aren’t they?”

Seeing that no fight was going to break out, students began moving again, losing interest. Now that Minho had put out his cigarette, the teachers scurried away, pretending they hadn’t seen anything. Taemin noticed a group of the freshman girls glaring, probably plotting out his death just for talking to Minho, while some of them stared longingly.

Taemin shrugged, leaning his head up against the wall. “I don’t think so. I think they’re all curious.”

“Curious?” He echoed. “About what?”

He shrugged again, looking away from the crowd before he could spot Jonghyun. “About you, I guess. There are a lot of rumors about you floating around. Do you really do half of that stuff?”

It was Minho’s turn to shrug. “If you want to believe it, then it’s probably true.”

“I don’t want to believe some of it.” He admitted.

“Then it’s not true.” Minho turned to look at him and Taemin was a bit surprised to find him smiling, and he didn’t look so angry anymore. Suddenly, Taemin didn’t think that any of those rumors could be true. “It’s as simple as that.”

And then Minho was standing up, grabbing onto Taemin’s elbow and hosting him up right along with him. “C’mon Taemin. Let’s go.” With one last little half smile, he turned and started walking away, away from the school and the still gawking student body and down the street, with all the confidence in the world that Taemin would follow.

And after just a second of hesitation, he did, falling right in step behind him.


End file.
